Page 10 of Marked By the Billionaire
She blinks. “How?”
I set the glass down, the clink loud in the silence. “You say you have a daddy kink, right?”
“What does that have to do with this?”
“I assume you have that fetish because you’re looking for safety. Your body’s craving it. Let me help you let go.”
Her eyes roll to the side and back again as her fingers clench the chair rail tight. “This isn’t about me. It’s about you. Your fantasies.”
“Right now, my fantasy is to watch you let go.” My voice deepens, the scent of bourbon twisting in the room as I stare toward her and say, “Crawl to me.”
Her breath catches and her body stills as her lips part. “What?”
“Crawl to me.”
“Why?” Her brows narrow, and her fingers curl tighter around the hem of the sweater.
“You said you didn’t know how to let go. I can help you. You’ve just got to give me control.”
She stares at me, eyes flickering with something between defiance and desperation. “Aren’t you paying me to take control?”
“No, little lamb.” I glance down at my glass then up again. “Your control belongs to you, until you give it to me. But,” I glance toward her, studying the way her rosy cheeks pink in the heat of the room, “I think you’re exhausted. I think you’ve been holding on so tight for so long that you need someone to tell you it’s okay to stop fighting for a minute.”
Her lips press together, trembling slightly. “I don’t know if I can.”
“You don’t have to know,” I say. “You just have to try.”
She looks down, her shoulders rising and falling with a shaky breath. The silence stretches, thick and fragile. Then, slowly, she shifts forward, knees brushing the edge of the rug. Her sweater slips off one shoulder, and she doesn’t fix it.
I stay still, letting her move at her own pace. Her eyes never leave mine, even as her hands touch the floor, tentative and unsure.
Each inch she closes between us feels like a confession.
When she’s close enough to feel the heat off my skin, I reach out, brushing a strand of hair from her face before leaning into her lips with a gentle kiss. “You’re safe,” I whisper. “I’ve got you.”
Her eyes glisten, but she doesn’t look away, and suddenly I’m tangled up in a feeling. A real, in the moment, heartthrumming feeling, and I don’t know what the fuck I’m supposed to do with it.
Chapter Five
Penny
What the hell is happening? I’m not this girl. I’m really not this girl.
I don’t crawl to anyone. I don’t melt under soft words. I don’t walk around unguarded, trembling, wanting. I don’t let people hold me.
I hold myself. I always have. Yet here I am, lips on his, knees pressed into the rug like some kind of offering, and he’s looking at me like I’m not broken. Like I’m something worth protecting. Like this is more than a transaction, more than money.
It should make me run. It should make me laugh, deflect, build the wall back up brick by brick… but I don’t move. Some aching part of me wants to stay, wants to be this girl, even if it’s only for a minute.
He groans low, tipping the rough pad of his finger under my chin until my gaze meets his. “You’re allowed to want comfort, little lamb. I don’t want the version of you that pretends. I want the version of you that’s real. The one that needs a steady voice in her ear. The one that needs me. Let me carry your burdens with you.”
I swallow hard and try to ignore the warmth creeping in through my toes, up my spine, and into my chest, but it’simpossible. The heat is there, and though I don’t know if I can trust it, I want to believe I can.
“Am I in control, sweetheart?” he asks with a steady voice, and what looks like kindness in his eyes. And though I fear the entire experience is all part of the game he’s playing, I nod. I nod and a jolt of energy rushes through me as he stands, lifts me from the ground, and carries me to the back of the house toward the bedroom he’s claimed as his own. He’s careful, wrapping his massive arms around me as though I’m a fragile little flower. Like I’m real, that this is real. Like hewantsto take care of me. Like hewantsto be my protector. Like hewantsme to call him daddy.
Oh God, I really need to get that out of my head. He’s paying me for a weekend. It’s fake. It’s to amuse him. That’s all this is… amusement for a rich fuck.
My breath catches as he settles me onto the bed, his hands never rushing. I feel the heat of him even after he steps back, like his touch left a mark beneath my skin.
